


Immortals (Spider verse songfic)

by Little_Queen_of_Dreams



Category: Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)
Genre: Based on a Fall Out Boy Song, Connections, Family, Immortals, Post-Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018), Song Lyrics, Spider Babies, Team as Family, spider gang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-08-31 23:47:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20248636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Queen_of_Dreams/pseuds/Little_Queen_of_Dreams
Summary: Peter, Noir, Peni, Gwen, Ham, and Miles all have different ways of reminding themselves why they fight.(Songfic to Immortals by Fall Out Boy)Personally, I think that this is one of my best works and am very proud to share it!





	Immortals (Spider verse songfic)

**Author's Note:**

> My OC is mentioned (barely) just so you know. (If you want to learn more about her check out my works:))
> 
> Feel free to tell me what you liked and leave constructive criticism.
> 
> :)

_ They say we are what we are, _

_ But we don't have to be, _

_ I'm bad behavior but I do it in the best way, _

_ I'll be the watcher of the eternal flame _

_ I'll be the guard dog of all your fever dreams, _

Gwen walked along the building’s roof as she listened to the sounds of the streets below. Patrol had been relatively normal for the afternoon, and she was ready to go back to her room and work on the massive paper for English. 

Wonderful. 

She perched herself on the edge and looked out to the city below her. Two alleys lay equidistant between her. Two alleys she knew. If something was up she'd be able to hear it soon enough. Her eyes glassed over as she watched the sidewalk below her. Nothing was happening. She might as well go back. She'd put off the paper for longer than she should have and now it was going to bite her. She was abruptly jarred from her daydreaming by the sounds of shouting. A teenage girl about her age was running down the street, a group of boys in hot pursuit. 

“You're nothing but a-”

“Hey!”

Beneath the mask, Gwen's lips slowly curved into a smile as she watched them run. She'd hated seeing girls getting catcalled and harassed before she was bitten. 

It was nice to know she could do something about it now. 

Nimbly, she jumped down from the wall. The girl stood still, shell-shocked. She jumped at the sound of Gwen's voice. 

“Are you okay?”

She shrugged. “As good as I'll ever be, I guess. Thanks for that.”

“It's my job,” she watched their backs as they tore through the street, “What was that all about?”

“It's nothing,” she brushed herself off, and Gwen noticed the bruises covering her arms, “just a stupid rumor.”

Gwen raised her eyebrows. “If just a rumor set that off, it must have been one hell of a rumor.”

“It wasn't.” Her voice had lost all fear and become jaded. 

“Do you want to tell me anything? I can report it if you need.”

She bit her lip. “It would only get me in trouble. Trust me when I say it's really nothing,” she held up a hand, “you don't need to help. You do enough already for everyone.” She turned to walk away. 

Gwen watched her leave, and sighed. She hated feeling closed off from the world she protected, hated the invisible wall that seemed to always be built as soon as people were out of immediate danger. She didn't have to imagine the dangers that hid below the surface, the ones she couldn't save. 

She paused, hand resting over her pocket. Peni had given her emergency beacons to set off for law enforcement. She pulled one out carefully. 

Just one couldn’t hurt. 

She could still see the girl walking down the street, avoiding the gazes of those who passed by her. It wouldn’t take much to reach her. 

She was understandably surprised by the masked vigilante that fell in front of her and pressed a minute, silver disk into her hand. 

“Just take it. If it's an emergency, press down hard on the center. You shouldn't have to keep fighting.”

She took it, a small smile gracing her face. “Thank you. I have to go.” 

Gwen watched her leave. She couldn't help but notice her head held higher and her walk less defensive.

All it took was a safety net. 

The chance to escape. 

She grinned as she made her way back to her room. Maybe it didn't take much for that wall to come down. 

_ I am the sand in the bottom half of the hourglass _

_ I try to picture me without you but I can't _

Gwen opened up her laptop to a friendly sight. She'd gotten a picture with Peter, Peni, Noir, Miles, and Ham from the last time they'd been together. There was no one to take it, so they'd had to set it up with a timer. Knowing them, it was taken a few seconds before Peter's phone had careened off of the building’s edge. While it couldn't be considered a professional shot by any means, it showed her and her friends. 

It gave her some hope. 

The knowledge she wasn't alone. 

_ 'Cause we could be immortals, immortals _

_ Just not for long, for long, _

Peter checked his texts from M.J and smiled. The episode on the building had created cracks that snaked across the screen, turning what was a brand new ePhone into what M.J had described as a “broken box of glass.” He'd refused to get a new one when she'd asked, saying it held memories. While those memories mostly consisted of rapid swearing and attempts to dislodge the phone from the nest of an angry pigeon, they were memories all the same. 

He still couldn't resist laughing at their faces. Spider sense was keenly good at sensing danger, but forgetting to mention what sort of danger that could be. Both he and Gwen had learned to ignore it, but Miles hadn't yet discovered the unimportance of the feeling. He seemed to have discovered a confusing sound, but not figured out where it was coming from. His eye were scrunched in a weird form of concentration while the rest of his face did its best to keep the generic photo smile as realistic as possible. It was a hilarious combination, especially coming from someone like Miles. 

He'd contact Peter just about everyday with weird questions about spidermanning that he claimed were “hypothetical.”

Peter would answer them, always ending with the question. “Do you need my help?” 

He didn't care if the answer was always no. 

He was willing to do whatever he could to make sure not to have another dimension end up with a Spider-Man like him. 

_ And live with me forever now, _

_ You pull the blackout curtains down, _

_ Just not for long, for long, _

_ We could be immortals, _

His thoughts were distracted by the cacophony of the playground below. Some decent-minded millionaires had decided to donate unused parts of their skyscrapers and big-industry building to the city, turning most rooftops into community gardens or outdoor daycare centers, like the one below. While the eighth floor was dedicated to the indoor parts of the day, it was impossible to control a large group of 2-5 year-olds without giving them the chance to run around. 

His eyes drifted to the mini battle that was occurring on the roof below. A small army of preschoolers had gathered and were deciding who got to be Spider-Man. Instead of what he would have expected (fighting and tears) it turned into a panel of who was the most like Spider-Man, with kids listing off the different ideals of who Spider-Man was. He lowered himself to hear better. 

A boy wearing a neon-yellow shirt with the words “cool cat” held up a toy Spider-Man mask to the crowd, clearly revered as an item of honor. “Who's the most helpful?”

A small number of kids raised their hands, naming off helpful things they'd done earlier for their teacher (an older woman off to the side who was smiling and nodding). More questions were asked and answered making Peter move even closer to hear the tiny creatures over the sounds of the city. 

He was so enthralled with their discussion, he didn't realize how close he was until one of the kids pointed him out. 

“Look! It's Spider-Man!”

That's all it took for whatever kids weren't part of the debate to flock closer to the others and begin waving frantically with choruses of “Hi Spider-man! Are you really Spider-man? Can I be Spider-Man too?” 

He did his best to seem like a good influence as he jumped down and waved at the mob of children, stopping the occasional attempt to climb on his back or the question “can you catch me if I jump?” 

Their teacher had to eventually call them back in, “Spider-Man has a lot of work to do, we can't distract him any further.”

He watched as she ushered the kids through the door, one little girl lagging behind the others. She whispered a question to the teacher who smiled and nodded, gently pushing her towards him. 

He sat down on a step of the play structure. “Can I help you?”

“Is it,” she bit her lip, “is it true that your parents died?”

He nodded. “I lost them when I was just about your age.”

“Does it get better?” She looked at him pleadingly with open eyes. 

“Did you lose your parents?” She nodded, tears threatening to fall. Gingerly, he lifted her up into his lap. “It hurts, but they'll always be with you, you know.”

She shrugged sadly. “What do I do?”

“Well,” he paused for a moment, “you need to find something happy in every single day. I learned the hard way that superpowers can't bring them back, but, if you remember them and use those memories to make the world better, life gets easier.”

“Can I be Spider-Man?” 

He shook his head. “You don't need to go that drastic.”

“Oh,” she looked at him, “What do I do then?”

“Make someone smile.”

“That's it?” 

He nodded. “Yeah.”

She caught him off guard, enveloping him in the biggest hug her small arms could produce. She bounded away before he had the chance to react, turning back only for a second to smile. 

He matched her expression. Maybe it wasn't so bad to have a Spider-Man like him. 

_ Sometimes the only payoff for having any faith, _

_ Is when it's tested again and again everyday, _

_ I'm still comparing your past to my future, _

_ It might be your wound but they're my sutures, _

“Just keep it steady, Peter,” Peni pinched her tongue between her teeth to keep focused, “we don't want to botch this.”

“That would be interesting, though,” Ham smirked from his place in the corner, “I didn't know fire could turn that color, even in my world.”

Peni rolled her eyes beneath her welding mask. Neither Ham nor Noir had any real family in their dimensions, so they often helped babysit when Peni’s mom was working. (Not to her knowledge of course). Times like these, though, she felt like she was babysitting them. 

“I want to make sure the new mech is even stronger than the last one, even if it means having to weld each and every piece together by hand,” she gestured to the enlarged clamp Noir was helping hold together, “I need to fix this first though. No one’s touched any of my father’s equipment since,” she choked out the last word, “since he died.”

Noir stood up and gently turned her chair to face him. “Are you sure you're ready to do this?”

“You can wait a bit, you know.” Ham walked over and put a hand (hoof? Paw?) on her arm. 

She took off her mask and sighed. “I need to do this. I need to be able to protect everyone,” she gestured to the design, “I can't do that without a mech.”

“We can help protect if you need time.” Noir looked at Ham, who nodded in approval. 

“It wouldn't be too hard.”

She blinked. “Do you mean it?”

They both nodded. 

Peni considered the thought and leaned back in her chair. “I'm just not ready to start again. The last time I did any of this was with my father.”

“We can help,” Ham smiled, “as long as you explain it.”

Noir nodded, eyes wide. “Slowly,” he gestured to Ham, “he might not get it all.”

Peni rolled her eyes and grinned. “Of course.”

_ I am the sand in the bottom half of the hourglass _

_ I try to picture me without you but I can't _

_ 'Cause we could be immortals, immortals _

_ Just not for long, for long, _

Miles was tired of getting beat up. 

He was fine with being Spider-Man, but he found it completely unfair that he went up against full grown adults as a middle schooler. 

Gwen had listened and nodded, reminding him that she’d went through the same thing, being his same age. While she'd had Alice, he had the ability to turn invisible and control electricity (or whatever he called it). 

Coming home from a particularly bad fight with Doc Oc, he was considering calling her and asking to trade in his extra powers for her girlfriend. 

He hated fighting on his own, no one at your back or checking to make sure you were alive. Peter had said to call him with whatever he could need, but he always hesitated bringing him in. 

He didn't want to see another Spider-Man die. 

He knew it was pointless, but he still felt the pain over being unable to stop Peter's death. Aunt May had reminded him time and time again that there was nothing he could've done and how Peter would have been proud to know that Miles had stopped the supercollider and protected the city in his place. 

Sometimes, it felt like it was a mantle to heavy to carry. 

He'd grown up with Spider-Man being a revered hero for all of New York. He had a show, a comic book, a theme song, a cereal, a Christmas album, even a popsicle. Spider-Man was more than a person, he was an example of the most perfect a person could be. 

He was the unattainable. 

Miles hadn't even tried to match his perfection and just kept his head down and did his best. He'd expected to be acknowledged a bit, maybe get a ‘thank you’ tweet or two. 

He hadn't expected what had come. 

New York had been confused at the beginning, producing a few conspiracy theorists claiming that the new Spider-Man was the ghost, child, or reincarnation of Peter Parker. Some had challenged the fact that he actually existed. (A week that had been exceptionally interesting). 

It had all changed when Aunt May invited him to lunch with Peter’s M.J. 

They'd both been confused at first. M. J had even thought it was some sort of cruel joke. When they'd explained that no, in fact, Miles was the new Spider-Man, she'd stared, open mouthed. 

“But you're so small.”

Later that week, she'd opened a press release, expressing her immense gratitude for the new Spider-Man, saying she found him a role model for people of all ages, and was thankful he took up the mantle in his own, creative way. She thought of no better way to honor Peter than to support their new, amazing, Spider-Man. 

Of course, there'd been people refusing to accept anyone besides the Peter they'd had for the last ten years. 

In some ways, he felt like he'd had to work harder than Peter, doing his best to prove he wasn't some cheap follow up act. 

His efforts had proved worthy. 

As he walked along the block, he felt the cool, calm peace draped over the streets and couldn't help but smile. 

Stickers, graffiti bits, and posters were sprinkled around, showing him, Peter, and both. 

Peter was gone, there was nothing he could do about that. 

He could keep his legacy going. 

Because Peter may have been gone, but there was no way Spider-Man would be anytime soon. 

_ And live with me forever now, _

_ You pull the blackout curtains down, _

_ Just not for long, for long, _

_ We could be immor- immortals, _

_ immortals _

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading and have a great rest of your day (or night) (or 3AM filled with sleep deprivation and feels).
> 
> ;)


End file.
